Baron Beauchamp
by fawnlet
Summary: The Inquisitor has saved the world, and once again nobles are clambering over each other to have the chance to grovel at her feet. Skyhold is safe. But among the newest and richest of arrivals is Baron Beauchamp: gorgeous, intriguing and completely insane. His instability and violent tendencies could shake the future of Skyhold, and its saviour, to its very foundations.
1. DAY1

Hundreds look on in horror. Their saviour. The reason they now live. Murdered. In cold blood. The sky spat cold, harsh rain onto the Inquisitor's once beautiful face. A wave of terrified cries rippled through the crowd. A strange mix of shock and hysteria seized the masses so that no one noticed the dark, solitary figure stalk away from sight.  
Later, in a lavish, golden chamber, a single candle emits a dim glow across the desk where a famed madman sits. He trembled and jittered with wide eyes as he effused his delirious scrawl. The ink bleed into then sweat that dripped from his hand onto the paper. With heavy breaths and racking sobs, he does not know himself whether he is laughing or crying. Chewing nervously on the end of his quill, he recounts the crime that history will remember throughout the ages.

 ** _ ** _/ BARON BEAUCHAMP: Day 10 /_**_**  
Oh, Inquisitor! I pray you will not hate me forever! I only did what had to be done, you see. You affected me more than was acceptable. You took advantage of a delicate man! Do not blame me entirely, my darling, for I cannot be blamed for you corrupting my morals so-! If anything, it was fate that thwarted you in the end, dearest, darlingest dove. And have no doubt, that fate shall feel the fury of my fiery fist for many years to come. For as many years as you will rest, Inquisitor. For eternity, it seems.  
Be at rest my immortal love.  
For you never know, fate may prevail over my attempts to trample him.  
Then, only then, can we be together purely, totally and without fear. Forever.  
I'm coming, my love, as __they__ are coming for me.

 ** **/ CULLEN RUTHERFORD: Entry 1 /****  
The world is in mourning. As am I. I still can't believe it. Our liberator. Gone. Today's hysteria was not easily suppressed. No one knows what direction we must take. But we must make a start. The personal grief that overcomes us, however crippling, must not impair our ability to come down swiftly on the barbaric bastard that took our future from us. And my love from me. My heart has not been broken. It has been __crushed and shattered__. But I must go on. I must find who did this. And punish him in the worst way imaginable.  
I have spoken with Leliana. We may have found a lead. One of Leliana's scouts has found pages from a journal that belonged to one of our visitors, Baron Beauchamp, in Val Royeaux. He speaks of the Inquisitor in the most disturbing ways. We will follow this up. He will not get away with this.

10 days earlier, before the Baron's life had taken such a devastating turn and his mind was not filled with quite as much poison, he arrived at Skyhold. Like many nobles of this time, he was intrigued by the world's saviour. He was intrigued to see if she was even truly worthy of the title. However, being the man he was, he could not shake the expectation that he would be swiftly swept into a wasteland of utter boredom. Little did he know that his life would change forever.

 ** **/ BARON BEAUCHAMP: Day 1 /****  
As to fully unstandardised my situation, reader (I refer to you as such as I expect this journal will not stay hidden forever), you must understand who I am and what my life is. Look upon this perfect nightmare!  
It will come as no surprise that I, the cultured and discerning Baron Beauchamp, have always played the role of the keen observer. Nothing escapes my honed vision. Even at those tedious parties I am perpetually obligated to attend, I sip at my wine, enjoying the bitter taste of fabricated wealth and I __leer__. For instance, as Lady Piaffe talks to some purple faced monster of a man, her face tells all there is to know.  
A twitch at the corner of the mouth.  
A flare of the nostril.  
A smile that teeters out too quickly.  
A huge mistake, Lady Piaffe, letting your disgust show so openly. A disgrace to The Game (her particular choice of shoes evokes a similar disgust).

None of the tiniest twitches go unnoticed by me, an exceptional player. Oh, dearest reader! Do not think I am being arrogant, for the opposite is true! It is not wrong for me to acknowledge my superior skill at The Game, I am simply a confidant man! I absorbed politics from my mothers breast. However, I cannot express enough how much I bore of the monotonous affairs I must partake in night after night. It's all the same. Count Du Delorme is tactically positioned to take advantage of the endless canapés while pretending to listen to Lady Le Vau. Said Lady sneaks a glare at Marquess Sauvage whom bedded her husband the night before. Lady does not know, however, that Marquess Sauvage already has a contract on her life.

Oh, it may not seem banal to some, but after encountering the same plot twists over and over, they cease to be twists! Such behaviour has begun to be expected, and thus, the thrill has slowly died.

All this was a world away from my dearest inquisitor (Ah, yes, I'll get to her soon).

I had to find ways to make The Game interesting again, you see. I found great pleasure in leaving a fake trail. By manipulating my words and movements, I could lead people to the wrong conclusions, I could shape my own identity! Because of this, I remained an enigma to the other nobles. My motives and preferences were shrouded in mystery. I overheard Lady Piaffe (yes, that graceless fool) say that she was quite certain that I was a bastard and my real father was an apostate fishmonger from Rivain! "I can tell by the way his knuckles ripple, Sauvage..." she whispered. Amazing! The reader can only imagine my delight when I, Baron Beau, manipulated that very same Piaffe into thinking I had a secret love-child with one of the elven servants! She, and many others, just simply cannot comprehend my elegant skill went it comes to such matters. Alas, I am always observing. So it should come as no surprise when I tell you that I could sense my love's grace immediately.

The moment I laid eyes on her!  
Never, never have I-  
Never have I seen such grace! Immediately! I was bewitched by her velvet skin- the soft wisps of hair that fall onto her freckled cheek! The matted brown eyelashes that hooded her lingering eyes!

 _ _Never, never!__

Transfixed! When we were first introduced, for once in my life I was lost for words, reader! Like some letcher, my mouth hung ajar. How uncharacteristically undignified! But she was ethereal! Hazy round the edges! I managed to collect myself enough to remain respectable in front of her advisors, however. Returning to earth, I bent down and took her dainty hand in mine and brushed my lips against her hot skin.

My heart nearly burst.

After some pleasantries she was obligated to return to her duties. With a smile, she turned away.  
I have always been a watcher.

Which is why I watched you then, my elven beauty! Out of the window of my room (near the fragrant garden you so tenderly cultivate, dear), I watched you, with your fey grace, bring a redolent flower to your cute little nose to inhale the scent. I watched the waxy petals brush against your painted lips. I watched the contented smile emerge on your sun-browned face.

Lavellan, I watched you in fascination.  
We are truly on the same level, you and I.


	2. DAY2

_**/ CULLEN RUTHERFORD: Entry 2 /**_

These entries are proving to be... unsettling, to say the least. Yes, I remember this man. I remember the way he drooled over Inquisitor Lavellan. If I am to continue reading I may have to stay away from anything breakable. This mad fool is delusional, he has no idea what he has created- he's mad! Mad!  
...But I shall continue.  
Leliana is doing everything in her power to suppress any kind of riot in the Inquisitor's absence. Her death has rocked us all. Let's see if this lunatic gives anything close to a confession.

 _ **/ BARON BEAUCHAMP: Day 2 /**_  
Today I found that the demon-slaying, throne-sitting, empress-impressing, all-powerful Inquisitor Lavellan was not only beautiful to look at, but also delightful company. After our initial encounter and after my mind had cleared considerably, I was anxious (well, as anxious as is possible for me) that my darling would prove to be dull. Oh, how wrong I was.

Late in the afternoon, as the sun made it's red descent, giving her limbs a sweet golden glow, we were able to spent some time together. Maker knows entertaining nobles can prove tedious (I often find this myself), so I made the decision to entertain her. Yes! Entertain _her_. With my wit and charm, you see. On the battlements, away from distractions.  
I had discarded my mask in my chambers, hoping for Lavellan to get the full view.

I engaged in pleasant, although very professional conversation with my dear. Although I was very subtly complimentary, I noticed something. As she spoke of how the Inquisition growing, how morale is getting better and better and how she slew that dragon blah blah blah, something was distracting her. Oh, of course her eyes gleamed like summer itself, there was a certain sullenness to her being. Her eyes shone, but they were tired and her lashes hung low. Tired eyes and wounded hands. I broached the subject.

"My lady, I hope you don't mind me saying so, but you seem as if something is troubling you." I said in my tenderest tones. The little fawn turned her gaze off to the side.

"Well, you see..." she gave a long sigh, deliberating whether to share her personal troubles with someone so unfamiliar, I suppose, "I am dealing with some matters of a personal nature..."  
And right then, I noticed the moisture begin to collect around her eyes! The little pet was trying not to weep!

"Forgive me, this is most unsightly." she said, trying to maintain her professional image. It wasn't working. Rubbing away any trace of moisture with her back of her wrist in the most childish way, she looked back at me.

"Oh, er, my lady, there is no need to apologise..." came my warm, gentle reply, slightly stifled by the surprise of her tears. I took her hand (a bold move, I confess), and said, "I beg you to share anything that's troubling you."

She shook her head.

"It's nothing, I just- It's just..." she stumbled,"I recently received some unfortunate news, that's all.." her sophisticated speech did not match her distressed state and juvenile movements, "It's my clan, they're...sadly they've-"

"Your worship, there is no need to keep being so formal when you are so upset, trust me." I replied sincerely and genuinely, filled with compassion for her plight.

Her facade quickly crumbled.

Oh, and she made that face! The slight contortion of the face and slight wobble of the chin that young people do when holding back a hurricane. It filled half of me with sincere concern. It filled the other half with a strange thrill. This early display of vulnerability gave me an opening. I moved closer towards her.

"It's my clan. Around a week ago we received news from Lady Volant. My clan were taking shelter in Wycome, you know? But the circumstances were... unfortunate. The Duke? He was using red lyrium; mad, I know. I just..." her face contorted more and the flood barriers broke. Sobbing, she continued, "Now that I'm the only one left I- I'm trying and trying to be strong for everyone- they need me to- they need me"

She frantically rubbed her tears away and continued to spill her fears.

"Everyone thinks I'm done grieving, maybe I should be but ugh I need to keep going- need to-"

The sudden closeness made everything seem like a blur. I rested an affectionate hand between her shoulders and into my own shoulder, she cried.

I was closer than I had ever been before. Oh, her eyelashes were dark and wet, and that sun-oranged skin was both tender and harsh, like the sun's very own rays. I could have stayed in that bliss for evermore, but alas, my sunny paradise was cut short when she insisted she return to her chambers to 'get a hold of herself'.

For the rest of the day, I was left in a sort of limbo. I had experienced such a short burst of utter glee in such a minute amount of time, I had no idea what to do with myself after finally sloping off to my guest room.

I was enjoying not wearing a mask at least. It made me feel oddly naked. But I digress.

Graciously cutting my agony short (I say 'agony', I was really trying on different hats to see which was the most charming. I settled on no hat.), her holiness requested I join her in the main hall.

We stood in front of her lavish throne. She had calmed down. Her eyes were still rimmed with red, she looked, however, very calm. I suspect she was still feeling the warm afterglow of hot tears and the comfort that comes after someone ceases to cry. Her lips curled upwards into a nervous smile as she looked towards the ground. I stood, caring but confidant.

"I do hope you'll forgive that display. If you would let me, I would like to give you a proper introduction to the Inquisition," she smiled, a real one, finally, "I'll give you a personal tour and er, introduce you to my inner circle if that would interest you."

I'd already seen most of the main suspects entering the garden from my window. That huge beast of man (Canary? Qunari? Something.), for instance.

In that moment, I beamed at her, taking her hand in mine and brushing my lips against her divine skin. In front of her spymaster and commander who were passing through, no doubt!

"It would be my pleasure, _my lady_."

In the corner of my eye, I saw the spymaster throw a glance and give a sly smile. That commander, what an odd man. He bristled! I shall look into this. I hope my presence here would turn him as mad as I am. That could be _exciting_. I feel that neither of those reactions were necessary. They need not fear that I might have intentions of courting the mighty nymph- for I don't.

All my heart's desire is to trace that fey movement - the subtle ripple of her knuckles, the juvenile impishness with which she moved- up her nerves and delicate spine to a singular point in that unexplored mind.

Commander- _don't you worry._


End file.
